Long Time Stain
Some time around 1998 I went out way too hard at the Christmas Eve lunchtime office drinks and ended up in foetal position, around 2:30pm, in the midst of lots of happy Christmas shoppers, power chundering and violently dry retching foul bile across the Ye Olde cobblestones of the busy shopping precinct that is the Hobart Mall.

I could not move for some time. Eventually some nice people helped me to my feet and pushed me onwards, and I staggered home, covered in vomit, grime and remnants of tinsel.

The stain remained on those cobblestones for some years, and sometimes I would glance fondly at it, as I trudged to work in later times.
( Ken Oath, Tue 23 Dec 2014, 14:49, 5 replies)

Always the organizer, never the pisshead
For the last decade or so, it's come down to me to organize the office xmas do. I've got this down to a minimum of fuss; essentially get a couple of the younger women to do the decorating, as my sense of aesthetics is pretty lacking and they seem to enjoy it. Stick on the same 300-song playlist. I order in the nibbles, wine, glasses, ice etc from the same companies I've used for the past n parties, and set up my desk as the bar, and serve people drinks all night. I have a few myself, naturally, but always stay sober enough to be able to pour straight. Consequently, the most exciting thing to happen to me personally was have a colleague grind her arse into mine (and several other mens) crotches, but I've seen a few other things...

1) Accountant got pissed and forgot about the concept of toilets. Opened up the window (4th floor) and pissed onto the street from there.
2) I once hired 2 bar staff to do the drink-serving instead of me. I said they could help themselves to a couple of drinks if they liked. One got thoroughly pissed, basically joined the party himself as a guest, started smoking indoors, wouldn't stop drinking when I suggested he'd had enough, got more and more obnoxious... eventually we kicked him out without paying him. Silly twat.
3) Have had a couple of extra-marital tawdry affairs start at office parties. Only witnessed the initial flirting and the leaving together, rather than the affair itself mind. More's the pity.
4) Had a regular associate make his excuses and leave as "he'd better go an untie the girl in his dungeon". This wasn't a joke; he's really into that kind of stuff. He had been at the party for 4 or 5 hours, the poor/lucky girl, depending how you look at it.
5) Seen a 50+ year old woman flirt utterly outrageously with an 18 year old lad. Stopped short of actually fondling his wang, but frankly she may as well have done.
6) Seen a colleague have to be physically restrained and dragged home before he shagged the boss's wife.
7) Seen the same woman burst into tears in a fit of self-hatred, every other year. Usually after speaking her mind to someone important, then it was probably a mistake.
8) Had the same gay man try it on with me every year. Always maintains that the only difference between a straight man and a gay man is "about 8 pints", so I don't think he's going to give it up.
9) Watched a hilariously painful and squeamish scene, when an older chap brought together a girl and guy and gave a matchmaker speech, saying what a wonderful couple he thought they'd make, and why don't they think about getting together, unaware that they'd previously gone out and split up in less than amiable circumstances a year or two before, and had being trying to avoid each other for the entire party.
10) I can't just leave a list at 9, now can I? Hm. Well... er... I'm pretty much out of embarrassing anecdotes worth repeating, but this ones interesting to me at least: I suspect I might almost be 'in' with a lesbian. I mean, she's a lesbian, so probably nothing in it, but she basically hangs around me almost the entire time at these things, talks pretty vividly about her sex life (and complains about the lack of it), draws attention to her boobs and how her outfits never quite fit because of them, tousles my hair every so often... maybe I'm just her new SBF, but still, it's nice to think about, if only for the ego boost :)

Merry xmas, you bunch of filthy bastards.
(nobuttocks last besmirched the internet on, Mon 22 Dec 2014, 17:43, 7 replies)

Ah, yes - the enforced company-approved jollity of the staff Christmas party, at which the high-ups throw a bone worth less than their bonus to the proletariat and expect them to be grateful.
What fun!
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Mon 22 Dec 2014, 10:05, 3 replies)

when i was a trainee, a new girl joined the team
she was weird. proper anorexic with scrawny legs and fly-away hair. you'd see her at lunchtime, wandering around the m&s on fenchurch street, with a tiny tuna salad, staring for hours at the crisps and chocolates. if you said you might try and lose a couple of pounds, she'd turn up that afternoon with a massive toblerone for you. and she would get pissed (never ever buying a round herself) and then demand of the blokes, "WHY HAVEN'T I HAD SEX IN 8 YEARS?"

but she excelled herself at the christmas party. she was sitting next to a male trainee from the manchester office, and he must have mistakenly been nice to her. part-way through the starter - not even at midnight, when nobody would have noticed - she suddenly leapt on him and straddled him, right there at the table in front of 800 people, trying to snog him.

there was a mexican wave of people taking photos and the next day, views of her profile on the intranet hit quadruple figures. horrific.
( rachelswipe with a fork, Tue 30 Dec 2014, 12:56, 7 replies)

Can't think of anything worse
I'm an atheist so not Christmassy anyway, but is there anything as soul destroyingly shit as office Christmas parties. I enjoy a good social life all year round, and the thought of legislated 'party' eugh. Even a quick drink in a pub just before Xmas told me everything I needed. Just standing at the bar listening to the moronic small talk... the middle-aged women with their glittery dress and glittery bag and glittery hair trying to be all glittery talking to someone they never normally even give the time of day.

VILE.

Okay that's a rant. Can I provide anything funny? Not really. I did go to one a few years back and when going to a club after stored a colleagues's dildo (she'd got it as a gift) in my pocket as my pocket could support it. As a gay guy, next day forgetting all about it, it's quite something to just put your hand in your pocket casually and produce a plastic cock.
(LokiMD, Mon 5 Jan 2015, 18:55, 10 replies)

We all dressed up as penguins and Moonwalked the night away

( drimble he'd been white, he'd been black, Tue 23 Dec 2014, 22:57, 3 replies)

I used to edit a travel magazine that was sister to a foodie magazine.
The two MDs had touches all over the catering industry - they could seriously up or down a restaurant's reputation, so our Christmas party was the private dining room of ... some bloody poncy pea--and-mint-puree-with-a-hint-of-freshwater-salmon-mist-type establishment.

We started at 12pm with champagne, and had the correct wine with each course or whatever, and were then 'allowed' to free-drink, as it were - order whatever we wanted.

Then came the games - we had to identify weird foodstuffs and ting, and then - since one of the MDs was a qualified wine connoisseur, we had a red wine which he told us about - the long finish, the notes of bumblebee shit and lamb's vomit or whatever. It was alright, but by this point we were all pretty well trashed, and I remember him saying it was about £170 a bottle, and I couldn't help thinking that a bottle of Jacob's Creek would have done the job absolutely fine.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Tue 23 Dec 2014, 13:08, Reply)

Mine was rather lovely this year
We had champagne on the London Eye then dinner on a boat on the Thames. I made my excuses and left shortly after the shots and the dancing began and I was home and relatively sober before midnight, carrying a bottle of wine from the secret santa.

My missus, on the other hand, drank white wine at her office do. 99% of the time she's a mild-mannered, gentle creature who barely raises her voice but once she's had a taste of the white wine it's time to hide behind the sofa cushions. It wasn't so bad this time, but apparently she'd fallen out with two people who work in nearby offices and had a blazing row with the "gay fuck" and the "fucking bus bitch". I would attempt to recount the argument here, but even after having it described to me four or five times later that evening in increasing levels of volume I have to admit I'm still hazy on the details - it was about a business plan, or something like that. Like Dragons' Den but with swearing.
( emvee cruor deo cruoris, Mon 22 Dec 2014, 18:00, 5 replies)

Recently started a new job, newly single, and the Chistmas party came early in my tenure
A couple of the girls I worked with had - not at my behest - identified two female colleagues as having, er, "previous form" at this annual celebration of enforced jollity. Being so long removed from the art of pulling I decided to accept their help graciously.

The first, upon entering into our initial conversation beyond "hello", went on at considerable and high-pitched length about how wonderful it was that I was so comfortable in, and overt about, my homosexuality.

Whilst it was very amusing correcting her mistake, the look of slack-jawed astonishment on her face at this point rather made her resemble the last trout in the frozen fish section, which somewhat dulled my desire.

An hour later I was talking and - I think - flirting reasonably well with Melissa. I was hardly an expert before I surrendered my genitals to another, many years ago, but I'm pretty sure she was flirting back. Until another chap came over and said hello, after which she looked somewhat disconsolate. It transpired she'd entered into negotations with this gent, some time prior, as regards regular access to her vagina, and these had not reached a satisfactory conclusion.

Were I a cad or a bounder, I could have preyed upon her emotional state. I could even have played the "take solace in my manly (well she doesn't know better at this point) arms" card. I did neither of these things. I went straight into GBF mode, asked her all about him, and them, and why it didn't work, and what she liked so much about him, and concluded our conversation by packing her off in his direction with the words - I kid you not - "Now you go and show him why he'd be lucky to have you, then come back and tell me all about it!"

She did not come back.
(Darth Foxtrot A one-man army dedicated to making fetch happen, Mon 22 Dec 2014, 16:04, 6 replies)

Pissed out of my gourd on free red wine,
I found myself stuck in conversation with a colleague's other half, being regaled by tales of life in the forces, and how great it was that he was getting paid to travel abroad to shoot "rag heads".
He really enjoyed killing "rag heads", and told me that he liked it best when they got up close, as it meant that he could stab them. He went on like this for quite some time - pretty sure it was mostly bullshit, but there was a lot of free red wine, so I let him carry on, whilst I snuck the occasional glance at another colleague's impressive bust, and got more and more drunk.
Not a bad evening, but the hotel was shit.
( monster munch person, man, woman... camera... TV?, Fri 19 Dec 2014, 21:14, 3 replies)

I rocked up at the dinner table where all the senior management were seated,
and with great enthusiasm greeted them with an affable "'ELLO CUNTS!".
(eViLegion Chief Commissioner of the Scottish Lunacy Board, Fri 19 Dec 2014, 17:03, 4 replies)